


You

by luckystars1015



Category: Gintama
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Prompt writing, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 01:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20845646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars1015/pseuds/luckystars1015
Summary: Of all the things my hand has held, the best by far is you.





	You

Gintoki looks at his one hand as he tries to block the sun out of his eyes with it. He had been taking a nap when the clouds were still dancing in the skies, but it seems that their ballroom waltz across the heavens had ended. He brings his hand down to rub the sleep out his eyes. 

He lets one breath in and out, stirring his body awake. What was a man to do for a good nap in this day and age. His head turned to spy a tree atop the hill he had been sleeping on. How did he miss that?

The samurai gives a big huff and stands as his knees and joints pop. Man, does he feel like a grandpa hearing those noises. Where is all the calcium in the strawberry milk going to? He really hopes that hairs on his head is still silver and not turning gray as Kagura insists. 

Gintoki reaches the top with much more aplomb than such an accomplishment deserved, but he has learnt that life was about celebrating the little things. Not in the haughty way that he just did, but it was a truth nonetheless. His bottom drops to the ground as his free hand not holding his sword digs into the soft grass. The Shiroyasha of old reluctantly puts down his sword, calming a lifelong instinct that danger was just lurking around the corner. At least for today, Edo was safe and he needs a break. 

He turns his hands over to simply observe them. He follows the lines etched into his palms. He never had a fortune teller look at his hands to foresee the future. He doesn’t believe in that shit anyhow. Plus, all the scars and calluses splattered across his hands would render the prophecies moot anyway. His fingers palpates across the raised skin of a scar running across the center of his palm. 

He remembers receiving this injury at the height of the war. One Amanto had knocked his sword out his hand. In his desperation to reunite with the weapon he considered to be an extension of his body, he hadn’t noticed another one coming in from his blind spot and almost cutting his head off. He narrowly dodged, but not before the enemy’s sword bit deep into his palm. Zura had bitched and moaned for days when his right hand was out of commission, worrying that Gintoki might never be able to hold a sword again. The samurai shut him right up when he beat him in a match using his non-dominant hand. 

His eyes scan the other scars and wonders why a man his age still gets calluses. He is surely pushing thirty, yet here he is, still fighting the next bad guy planning to burn the city to the ground. Those government dogs better be setting up a fat paycheck for him when he finally retires and hands the torch off to someone with stronger bones who was willing to defend the city. Kagura really seems to fit the bill, but he has a feeling that she was equally likely to save the city as she would destroy it. 

His fingers suddenly twitch, pulling himself out of his musings. For some godforsaken reason, his hands now feel empty, but he knows it is not a weight his sword could fill. His mind drifts to black hair and blue eyes—a contrast that haunts his days and nights. His fingers yearn to take their fill and run through silky black locks. He wishes to cup a stubborn jawline as his thumb brushes across the contours of his cheekbones. 

Gintoki remembers the day when his world expanded to encompass something much more than the little Yorozuya shop sitting above Snack Smile. His comfort zone had always been pushed, typically not of his own volition, of course. Just every other day, some sap knocked on his door with a problem too ridiculous for anyone else to solve. But it was the first time he decided to actively care about someone again and pursue that person even if it meant essentially holding his vulnerable heart atop an open blender. 

His hands can still feel the warmth that had long evaporated from that moment. They were fighting another villain of the week, but this time, it was different. None of Gintoki’s hits landed. The Yorozuya apartment and Shinsengumi headquarters were somehow in complete shambles. Kagura and Shinpachi were nowhere to be found. Everything seemed lost until he came into his vision. 

Hijikata’s hand reached out and tightly held onto Gintoki’s own in a manner short of frantic and desperate. “Come on, you idiot! We can rebuild our places, but we can’t rebuild you!” Gintoki had to give it to the officer. While his hands were shaking, his voice did not. Something about the tight way Hijikata clasped his hand as he led rival-turned-reluctant-partner out of the collapsing building jump started the perm head's brain. Now he realized he still had much more to lose, and that dastardly villain wasn’t going to get another piece of it. 

That moment was fleeting, but the time he spent afterwards replaying the scene and trying to make sense of the beating of his heart that refused to slow felt like eons. After a grueling time spent in what the two refused to call a courtship, Gintoki hands could finally find Hijikata’s with little apprehension. There were still hitches of hesitation and bouts of embarrassment if other bore witness to these moments, but even Sougo got tired of teasing these two emotionally stunted adults. That boy was lovestruck with his own oblivious idiot. 

Hijikata was a man of few actions and even fewer words. He could quite possibly be mistaken for a statue if it weren’t for his regular exhales to expel the plume of smoke from his lungs. But his actions meant all the much more when he performed them. Gintoki would never admit it even at gunpoint, but he found most joy spending his lazy afternoons strewn across the tatami mats of the Shinsengumi barracks, his body sitting quite close to the Vice Commander, but not exactly touching. It was always Hijikata to bridge the last gap, his free hand softly coming to rest on Gintoki’s hand, thumb absentmindedly drawing circles into his skin. 

Normalcy somehow wormed its way into their lives, much to their confusion once they finally realized it. One day, Gintoki blinked and finally noticed another set of home goods next to his and Kagura’s items. His eyes fixated on a blue electronic toothbrush he knew he would never spend the money on. He walked around the apartment, wondering how much of Hijikata’s things had migrated over to his place without him knowing. There was a plain white mug and a coffee maker that Kagura was banned from touching; that girl already had too much energy to begin with. Spare Shinsengumi uniforms he totally didn’t try on when he was bored hung in his closet. The realization didn’t him like a sledgehammer until he saw a used ashtray on his window sill. When Gintoki heard the telltale signs of Hijikata’s footsteps coming from the doorway, he turned to him and asked, “hey… are we… boyfr—?”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!!” Hijikata yelled as his face exploded into a crimson blush. He looked like he was either about to tackle Gintoki or flee the scene. All the silver samurai knew was that he had inadvertently stepped on a land mine. 

Gintoki’s brain cells finally put the strawberry milk to good use and began to really think about their relationship. They were two people in a mutually exclusive romantic (and sexual) relationship with each other. At this point, Hijikata practically lived at Gintoki’s place when he wasn’t working at the Shinsengumi barracks. They cooked and shared meals with each other. Even Kagura would agree that Hijikata’s cooking was quite good if you got to it before he doused it with mayonnaise. At the end of the night, Gintoki would fall asleep to Hijikata’s heartbeat and wake up to it the next morning. 

“We are totally boyfr—mmph!!” Gintoki was completely caught off guard as Hijikata shoved his lips against his. 

The tongue that subsequently slithered into his mouth removed any sane thought left in his head. His hands wrapped around Hijikata’s tight waist and pulled him closer as they fumbled their way into his room. 

When they finally finished another round of lovemaking, Gintoki found himself staring intensely into Hijikata’s gunmetal blue eyes above him. The moon bathed Shinsengumi officer’s lithe form in a gentle light. Hijikata lowered himself to place a chaste kiss. “Of course we’re boyfriends. But don’t you ever say that word aloud again. It’s so juvenile. We’re not in fucking middle school.”

Gintoki smirked at the light blush that refused to leave Hijikata’s face. “How about partners? Wait, that makes it seem like we’re cowboys.” That drew out a light chuckle from the other man. The silver samurai flipped their positions, pinning Hijikata to the futon with his body. 

“Lovers?”

“That makes me feel dirty.”

“How about husbands?” Gintoki offered lightly, but his heart was doing somersaults inside his chest. 

Hijikata took in a sharp breath of surprise, but a soft smile stretched across his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Gintoki swooped down to steal another kiss as he intertwined their fingers, wishing time could stop forever. He’d never felt happier than when he held Hijikata in his arms. 

“Hey, can you give me money to buy the engagement rings?”

—

Gintoki smiles despite himself, thinking of that moment. He had replayed the scenes so many times since then, still amazed he found Hijikata in the crazy mess his life was. So lost in his daydreams, he hadn’t noticed someone approaching.

“I thought it was some lazy bum napping up here, but of course it’s you.” Hijikata comes up from the bottom of the hill. He reaches inside his jacket to pull out a thin cigarette. The bright sunlight hits his hand, shining upon a gold band. Gintoki lets out a soft exhale of amusement. He knows the tsundere is as happy to see Gintoki as the white-haired samurai is to see Hijikata. Probably. 

He pulls Hijikata into his lap without warning and places a kiss onto his surprised husband’s lips. Hijikata’s arms push against Gintoki’s chest without any real objection. “I’m still on duty.”

“Just take your clothes off. People can’t tell you’re a police officer and I get to touch you without all those damn buttons. We’re killing two birds with one stone.”

“I’d rather just throw that stone at you, shitty perm head.” 

“Sure you would.” Gintoki swoops in for a deeper kiss, relishing in the way Hijikata melts in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys wanna chat or get updates about my next fics, follow me on twitter @luckystars1015  
\---  
I am Icarus and your reviews are the sun
> 
> (*☻-☻*)


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